


hearth and home

by ehonauta (banzai)



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Domesticity, Gen, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 21:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15649080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banzai/pseuds/ehonauta
Summary: "You can refuel a little after a weekend of pushing yourself like a 19 year old and not gain an inch on your girlish figure. Now man up and eat some damn pasta.”





	hearth and home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Starrla89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrla89/gifts).



> Unearthed from my tumblr. This prompt was [other ship redacted] but it’s for @starrla89 who is my bro in the good ship McDanno, so I counter-prompted, and she accepted. So have … whatever this is. We’ll generously call this canon-adjacent and of no particular earlyish season, because I haven’t actually watched in eons.

His weekend on base had been productive – some of the new kids were really, genuinely talented, and Steve felt good about being able to retire for real soon and let them do the heavy lifting for the next decade or so – but he was absolutely  _dying_ for his ridiculous top of the line mattress.

“You’re getting soft, old man,” he muttered as he opened his front door to – the smell of baking bread?

“Uh… Danno?” he called, drawing his gun. If it  _wasn’t_ Danno… well, no, frankly, it had to be.

“Yeah, babe?” Danny called from the kitchen, like this was all completely normal.

“Why does my house smell like bread?” he yelled, still frozen in the doorway with his weapon drawn.

“What do you mean, why does it – Jesus! Put that away, you lunatic!” Danny spluttered as he came into the foyer, wiping his hands on the half-apron he wore.

“Danny, shit, I thought you were going to California for the weekend with Gracie and Rachel and Stan– What the  _hell_  are you doing here?”

“Yeah well, something came up, plans got rearranged, it’s not like I get consulted on this stuff.” He gave Steve a sour look. “So sue me if I felt like eating my feelings and you have a decent kitchen while I most decidedly do  _not._  Besides, you weren’t gonna be here, I figure worse comes to worst I’ll have someone to bitch to and help me eat this really unreasonable amount of food I apparently made, and otherwise I’d be gone before you got here. Seriously, Steve, it’s bread. Put your damn weapon away. No guns around the lasagna.”

“…. Lasagna?” Steve asked, blinking bemusedly at Danny as he dutifully holsters his gun.

“Lasagna. Noodles, sauce, cheese? My mom sent me a care package from the grocery up the street from her, they pack this shit in dry ice and everything, I can get honest-to-God fresh pasta from DiGregorio’s and I don’t have to spend seventeen hours on a goddamn plane, Steve, do you know what kind of amazing development this is?”

“Uh. Good?”

“Damn right, good. Now come on –“ And then Danny was somehow chivvying Steve along, steering him onto a stool at the kitchen island, which was  _laden_ with food. The the aforementioned lasagna and a Caesar salad that could probably feed a football team were joined by approximately seven dozen breadsticks, some of which were still steaming from the oven.

“Danno, how were you planning to eat –“ he gestured at the Italian cornucopia occupying his kitchen “All of this?”

“Well, first of all, Steven, I’m a growing boy, secondly, most of it freezes well, and thirdly, hey, I did say I was going to share. AndI  _did_  admit it was an unreasonable amount of food. Now come on, you’re tired as hell, you look like shit, and you’re gonna help me eat this comfort food and then you’re going to go pass out on your – frankly obscenely comfortable – bed up there and sleep like the dead. Deal?”

“Deal,” Steve replied weakly, still reeling a little. Usually he gave himself at least a few minutes to steel himself for hurricane Danny, but the ridiculous domesticityof coming home to a warm house somehow full of Danny’s overwhelming personality and the smells of an honest-to-god home had him clutching at the countertop for stability.

“Uh. Babe? You gonna pass out there? Because I don’t think you want to faceplant into the salad.”

“Huh? No I’m…” Steve shook his head to try to clear it. “I’m good. Just calculating how many miles I’m gonna have to swim to burn this all off tomorrow is all.”

“Ugh, you’d think you’d understand the working of your own super-SEAL machine by now and understand that you can refuel a little after a weekend of pushing yourself like a 19 year old and not gain an inch on your girlish figure. Now man up and eat some damn pasta.”

“Ok, Danno, whatever you say.”

“Damn right, whatever I say,” Danny shot back with a smug grin. “Keep thinking that way and you’ll be fine.”

_Yeah_ , mused Steve.  _Maybe I will_. 


End file.
